


Sometimes

by Minxie



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's just about the sex. The feel of a hard body beneath him covered in sweat, and the sounds he can pull to the surface with a twist of his hips and a flick of his tongue, and the fucking scent of two men getting off – sweat and come and <i>heat</i> – without all the baggage that a relationship brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** established relationship, barebacking, kinda hinty for D/s  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction using names and faces associated with actual trufax people. I do not know these people in any way, shape, or form outside of what they show the public. Which, IMO, is a very sucky thing. Just sayin'.  
>  **AN:** I wanted porn. So, yeah. NOTHING resembling a plot is to be found here. JSYK. Huge smackles to Red and SunShinyDay for the prereads!

Sometimes it's just about the sex. The feel of a hard body beneath him covered in sweat, and the sounds he can pull to the surface with a twist of his hips and a flick of his tongue, and the fucking scent of two men getting off – sweat and come and _heat_ – without all the baggage that a relationship brings.

The bare bones of hand, mouth, dick, and ass.

 _Adam pushes Tommy up against the wall, mouths along the straining cords in his neck. "Do you know how fucking hot you were out there tonight?"_

 _"Getting the picture," Tommy grunts as Adam's hand snakes between them and palms the hot length of his dick, straining against the tight hold of his costume._

Sometimes Adam just wants to slam his boy down on his bed, hold him there and fucking _make_ him take it. Prepping not because he likes playing with ass, or because it totally makes Tommy squirm. But because he's just too damn big to rut into a hole that hasn't been opened and slicked and made ready.

Prep is a necessary thing that can be erotic. Or it can be just necessary.

 _With a hand gripping the back of Tommy's neck, Adam leads him into the hotel room. He's beyond the pretense of two rooms and keeping nosy paps and nosier fans at bay. The door isn't even shut properly when he says, "Strip."_

 _Tommy starts peeling the layers away immediately. He knows this tone, knows what's in store. And if the rise of goosebumps, the shudder moving visibly down his back is any indication, he wants it. Wants Adam like this – demanding and controlling and so fucking deep in his headspace that all he can think about it is making Tommy arch and moan and beg._

 _Adam crawls onto the bed next to Tommy and, pushing a lube coated finger unceremoniously into Tommy's ass, whispers, "Good boy."_

Sometimes it's about the rough, stuttered drag of his dick burrowing into a still too tight ass. It's the heat surrounding his dick and making the sweat pop out over his forehead and then his chest and arms. The clench and release of muscles as Tommy fights against the intrusion without time to adjust.

And it's the tight clamp of Tommy's hole around Adam's dick when he finally bottoms out, the give and take of that dances on the edges of pleasure and pain.

 _"Jesus fucking Christ," Adam spits out. "So fucking tight."_

 _Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and pants... whines... whimpers._

Sometimes it's about marking what's his. Leaving behind red and purple marks that spell out _Adam was here._ as boldly as a black sharpie marker on a bathroom wall. The way the Tommy pulls away – pushes into – Adam's grip, making the fingertip bruises spread and darken and _last_. Or how Tommy cants his head, bares his neck like a taunting little slut, just daring Adam to leave another impression of his teeth, another purpling mark.

It's about claiming. For both of them.

 _Adam folds Tommy's legs in tighter, pushes calves against thighs and thighs against Tommy's chest, as he fucks into Tommy's ass fast and hard and hot. He lets the sound of the tiny little hitches Tommy makes when Adam nails his prostate and the harsh rasp of Tommy begging –_ Adam _and_ please _and_ I need _– wash over him until white noise and Tommy surround him, mentally and physically._

 _When his orgasm starts building, when his toes curl and the base of his spine tingles, when he just knows he's going to either fucking come right now or pass out, he murmurs, "Yeah, yeah. Come on, Tommy Joe," and then bites down into the meat of Tommy's calf._

 _Marking him._

Sometimes it's just about the sex, the bare bones of hand, mouth, dick, and ass. And sometimes it's about the after. When they're both sated and sweaty and Tommy is curled into Adam's side, boneless and relaxed and blown wide open. When Adam strokes a hand down Tommy's back, pushes against the darkest of bruises to pull a soft moan out, or dips his fingers between Tommy's cheeks and drags a finger through the come leaking out his hole.

It's about all of that.

Sometimes.

* * *


End file.
